"He let her live." Weston enters the room, wearing his surgical garb.
"What?" I turn around, "What do you mean? How is she…?"
He watches me with a considering gaze.
My throat closes. "Is she?" my voice cracks. Jesus, fuck. I curl my fingers into fists, "Tell me Weston, or so help me I’ll—"
"He could have shot her in the chest or in the head, but he didn’t." Weston rubs the back of his neck."
"He shot her," I growl. "She was bleeding."
"It was a flesh wound."
I blink.
"What?" Damian straightens.
Edward rises to his feet.
Arpad, Sinclair and Summer move in closer.
"So… She’s fine…?"
"The doc stitched her up, but she’s okay."
"Right." The knot in my chest eases. I head for the entrance when a nurse enters. "The patient is asking for—"
"Me," I step forward, "I’m her husband."
She glances past me, "Dr Weston, she wants to see you."
"There’s a mistake." I frown, "She must have asked for me. Saint? She’s my wife."
The nurse’s features taken on an expression of pity. I stiffen. I hate that look, have seen enough of it.
"Let me through," I growl.
I brush past her and she touches my arm, "I’m sorry, but she doesn’t want to see you."
43
Victoria
I dig my fingers into the hospital bed. My shoulder throbs. The pain from the gunshot wound matches the throbbing sensation in my chest. At least they pulse in synchrony. That has to count for something, huh? A giggle bubbles up my throat.
Hell, don't lose your shit now. Deep breath, stay calm. You’ve come this far; you can see it through to the end.
I shut my eyes and see Saint’s face—his concern, the way he’d seemed to appear from out of nowhere and catch me as I fell. The last thing I remember is the fear in his eyes, the paleness of his beautiful features, the vein throbbing at his temple. Then his arms had closed around me, he’d cradled me to his chest, and I had felt safe… Safe, despite the fact that I’d been shot.
I’d known then that he’d do anything to protect me. He really did mean what he’d said. He cared for me… As for love? Perhaps he does love me, but will he accept this child...? Will he want to participate in bringing up this child, when he'd told me in no uncertain terms that he doesn't want children.
Weston walks into the hospital room, "You okay?"
I nod, try to swallow, but my throat is dry. I glance toward the side table. He walks to it, pours out some water and hands me a glass. I accept it and take a few sips.
"He wants to see you."
My fingers tremble. The glass tips and water splashes onto my hospital gown.
My heart hammers in my chest. "I don’t… I can’t…"
He leans forward, rescues the glass and places it back on the table.
"Does he know?" Weston pulls up a chair and drops into it.
"No," I twist my fingers together. "Did you tell him?"
He shakes his head, "But Saint has a right to know."
I tip up my chin, "That’s for me to decide. He won’t want it."
"Whatever is between the two of you, that’s your business." He leans forward, "But I am his friend, and I owe it to him to let him know."
"I'm his wife." I set my jaw, "It's my decision when I decide to share this with him."
"So you will tell him?" He frowns.
I twist my fingers together, "When it's the right time."
His jaw tics, "You want this child?"
I nod, "More than anything else in the world."
"How long have you known?"
"I... I guessed...when my period didn't arrive on time." I raise my shoulders. "But I put it down to the stress of the last few weeks."
"Did you plan this?" He frowns.
"No," I swallow.
He sets his jaw.
"Really." I hasten to add, "I understood how precarious my situation with Saint was... I even started taking the pill. No way, would I have been this irresponsible."
Yet here I am, pregnant.
Weston raises an eyebrow. “When you say you ‘even started taking the pill,’ do you mean you just started when you and Saint got together?
I nod.
He shakes his head, “Victoria, it can take up to seven days for birth control to become effective.”
My mouth drops open.
“The doctor must have told you...”
“Oh, my god,” I whisper, “I must not have heard her.”
Had I planned this subconsciously? I've always wanted a child of my own... No, I wanted Saint's child. I admit it, but I didn't consciously plan for it to turn out like this. I hunch my shoulders.
"I... I wouldn't hurt Saint." I swallow, "Not on purpose."
He changes position, surveys me for another beat. "I believe you," he says, then places the tips of his fingers together. "As your doctor and your friend, I’d advise that you allow him to share the load. This is when you need him the most."
"I don’t need anyone."
He scowls ,"Victoria."
"Swear it," I sit up and hold out my hand, "Swear you will not tell him yet, that you'll give me the chance to break the news to him."
"Fuck." He jumps up. "This is why I steer clear of all entanglements. It’s a bloody minefield. I don’t want to get dragged into this."
"Promise me, " I plead.
"I can't not tell him. However," he turns to me, "I'll delay it on one condition."
"Of course," I huff. "You Seven know how to haggle. Everything is a negotiation for you guys."
"Maybe," he raises his shoulders, "if it gets me what I want..."
"What?" I meet his gaze, "What do you want from me?"
"Meet him, once."
I shake my head, "No, no, that’s not happening."
There’s a commotion at the door, then Saint stalks in.
"Don’t think he’s leaving you a choice." Weston’s face softens, "Let him help you, Victoria."
"Keep your
